


Please

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fall feels, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, because I will do that for you you know me, do you want it to be smut?, happy first of halloween, hay rides, potential to be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jim, Joyce, and their confused, dummy feelings on a crisp fall afternoon.





	1. Chapter 1

“Never gonna understand what’s so damn romantic about getting hay in places it’s got no business bein’...” Jim Hopper grumbled as he tested the age-stained wooden floor of Old Man Merrill’s hay wagon, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Joyce cringed when she saw the slight bend in the wood, thoughts of Tetanus and other infections running through her head.

“Trip to the hardware store?” She asked, taking mental measurements of the boards as she did. Joyce always had a knack for eye-balling, a leftover from her past assisting her father during summer vacations, when his freelance carpentry services were always in demand. He had always been too drunk and too hot tempered for an actual boss, but too skilled for anyone to mind much. Most people were smart enough to leave their house for vacation on days Alvin Horowitz was schedule, and trusting enough to realize that, brutal drunk that he was, he and his little Joycie certainly weren’t thieves. Joyce shook off the brief, complicated flash of nostalgia as she smiled up at Jim.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this in the first place?” Jim leapt to the ground, and then turned back to Joyce, his heavy hands coming to rest on her hips.

Joyce heaved a mighty sigh as Jim lifted her and brought her safely to the ground. “Because the Hawkins High PTA has been chomping at the bit to put you to work ever since you enrolled your mystery child, and getting a shunning from them could really hurt El’s chances at a successful High School career.”

“We’re run by the Amish now?”

Joyce snorted, gave Jim a little swat on the chest, and then tried not to blush when her brain registered how solid that particular area had become. 

“And what do you care about those snobby PTA mother’s anyway, Ms. Jeanie?” He teased, referring to the long ago pop singer. His chuckle died in his throat when Joyce’s withering look turn slightly pained around the eyes. 

“Joy?”

She was idly chewing on her thumb now, never a good sign. Jim took a step forward and placed a hand between her shoulder blades, intent on rubbing a comforting circle along the fine-boned plane - she jerked away from his touch, as though scalded.

“Well, you know…” Joyce found herself quite unable to finish, the familiar tearing in her gut flaring up. The very same one she experienced the other day when she caught Dora Vance flirting with Jim near school cafeteria during Parent Teacher Conferences. 

“I really don’t, you’re gonna have to help me out here, beautiful.” 

Joyce shrugged, though the blush was inescapable now, creeping to the very tips of her ears. She knew Jim was smooth, that he threw around little pet names with everyone, especially when he wanted to weedle his way into getting what he wanted… but never with her. Now he was calling her ‘Joy’, which she hadn’t been called since she was a teenager and ‘Beautiful’, which she hadn’t been called since- well, she couldn’t remember, really. 

“If you’re in their good graces maybe someday El could have a… umm... you haven’t seriously dated in a good long time, have you? Dora Vance-”

“Dora Vance!” 

Joyce’s eyebrows knit together as she felt the confusion creep clear to her heart, causing it to beat at an abnormally fast rate. “What’s wrong with Dora Vance?” She squeaked out, breathlessly.

“Why are we even talking about her in the first place? Joyce… are you trying to arrange a marriage for me?” Jim’s hands were on her shoulders, and he stooped a bit so his incredulous expression could be clearly seen by Joyce. His lips were pressed into a thin line that threatened to break into a smile, while his blue eyes were narrowed and almost obscured by his heavy, furrowed brow.

Joyce shrugged her shoulders, and then struggled against his grasp, suddenly wanting to flee and hide, to put as much space between herself and the realization that she was perilously close to breaking open in front of her dearest friend. Confessing the one thing and losing everything. Stepping aside to allow him an opportunity to move on with women who didn’t come with an airport’s worth of baggage, orchestrating it so he’d be more or less thrown into their path, that had been painful. Standing in front of him, and breaking down under the weight of his penetrating stare, under the weight of eyes that had seen through hardened criminals… this was excruciating. She tried desperately to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine when she felt his big, calloused hand cup her cheek in an attempt to pull her gaze back to his, to stop her from studying the slate colored gravel beneath her dusty sneakers.

“Dora Vance is…” 

“No,” Jim intoned.

“No?” Joyce echoed, her tone taking an outraged edge that went to a high pitch towards the end. 

She had put a lot of thought into Dora Vance, thank you very much. The woman was attractive, kind, hardworking and had a daughter around El’s age. Dora’s ex had been Lonnie’s best friend, and cut from the same cloth, but like Joyce, the woman had somehow maintained her humanity throughout. Unlike Joyce, she came from money, so she had escaped a lot of the Single Mother Stigma that had been such a wrench over the years. By all accounts, the daughter, Mia, wasn’t a stuck-up little asshole like some poorly raised kids in that one horse town. Dora was perfect, and Jim’s dismissal was…

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Selleck, I didn’t know we had a celebrity in our midst!” She snapped, pushing his hand away, and turning on her heels so she could stalk away. She picked up her pace when she heard the gravel behind her crunch heavily with Jim’s pursuit.

“Hold up, wait just a god-”

“I didn’t know I should’ve been searching for supermodels when I…” Joyce paused, winced, snapped her mouth shut and mentally kicked herself. Jim’s footsteps came to a halt, but she could feel the heat of him at her back. 

“When you what?”

Joyce spun on her heel to face him, but not before slipping on the loose ground beneath her feet in the process, which ruined the power pose she wanted to convey (shoulders square, face stern, pointer finger in his face). Jim caught her around the waist, steadying her as she caught her balance, her face momentarily pressed against his chest. He smelled of sawdust, hay, with a tang of seat, and the feel of his hit combined with the soft wool of his flannel would’ve been enough to lull her into a dreamy state, had she not been brimming with humiliation. 

“N-nothing,” she stammered, pushing away from him. 

“So you have been trying to set me up with Dora… Joy, why?” 

Jim’s hurt tone baffled Joyce, as she dashed a palm across her forehead to push away some flyaway strands of hair that mingled with her too-long bangs. Once her view was free of obstruction, she could see that face matched tone; his blue eyes were wide and bewildered, and the corners of his mouth were turned down as he scrutinized her. Joyce exhaled and shook her head.

“Dora is nice.”

“Getting me out of the way so you can get back in the game, I suppose,” Jim muttered bitterly, completely ignoring Joyce’s weak endorsement. The accusation shot through her like an arrow. 

“What?”

Jim’s eyes raised heavenwards and to one side, as his head tilted to the left, one hand coming up to stroke his bristly chin. A perfect picture of sarcastic contemplation.

“Oh, jeez, I don’t know, but word around town is-”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit to me!” Joyce shouted as she squared her shoulders and balled her fists.

It really was, too. Jim had absolutely nothing to go on as he scoured his memory for someone, some man, at some time who might’ve looked at Joyce in a way he didn’t particularly like. This particular phenomenon happened mostly every day, but if the petite brunette ever noticed that she was on the receiving end of overt male attention, she never let on. 

“Saw you smile at Buck Hammond the other day when we took the kids out to dinner. His joke wasn’t even that funny.”

“Buck Hammond is 86, and his whole family is dead. Fuck me for throwing him a bone, Hop.”

Jim’s face went scarlet. There were fewer things meant to fluster him more than that particular request thrown in the same sentence with Joyce’s pet name for him. 

“Please,” came his knee-jerk reply. It was soft as the wind that lifted the ends of Joyce’s hair, gentle and beseeching. It resonated through Joyce like a midsummer thunder clap.

“What?”


	2. Nothing

Nothing.

Joyce knew when Jim uttered that phrase, in the low rumble of a sulky tone, that she’d have better luck getting blood out of a rock than get him to elaborate. The ride to the hardware store, and the repair of the wagon was done in almost complete, gut-twisting, silence. Most of their dialogue consisted of agreeing on the size of the boards they needed cut - during the repair, they passed around tools and nails in fluid motions, communicating their needs with looks and gestures. They parted with nods and low mumbles when Jim dropped her off at home, with a vague promise to meet her at the Harvest Festival later that night. They were both chaperones.

Something made Joyce put extra care into her appearance that night. It was going to be cold, a frost advisory loomed in the forecast, but she put paired a cranberry colored, cowl-necked sweater dress with a pair of black tights and matching knee-high boots. Spoils of a pre-separation closet clean-out at the Wheelers’. Joyce completed the look with her old, faux leather jacket, white knit gloves, matching knit cap, and makeup with a subtle, smokey eye.

“Hopper finally make a move?” Jonathan asked when she emerged from the bathroom and into the living room, where both of her boys were engrossed in the new Nintendo system she had begged Jim not to get for Will’s latest birthday. Will snickered at his brother’s question, but smiled kindly at Joyce.

“You look really nice, Mom.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and thank you baby.” Joyce heaved a sigh and swore under her breath as she fished in between the couch cushions for her keys. A jangling made her ears perk and she looked up to see Jonathan holding the keys above his head, his eyes never leaving the garish, cartoonish action of the TV screen. She groaned and took the keys.

“Get your butts in gear, we’re gonna be late.”

“Too old for the Harvest Festival,” Jonathan mumbled.

“And my head hurts,” Will added, deftly avoiding a brown mushroom-shaped monster, but missing the jump that came directly after.

Joyce wrinkled her nose and threw her hands in the air. “Really? Those PTA moms roped me into chaperoning, and my boys won’t be there to show moral support? How is that going to look?”

Will exchanged a look with Jonathan, gave a sad sigh and turned off the Nintendo.

_______

“She won’t focus on him if she’s worried about me,” Will whispered as he and Jonathan walked a few paces behind Joyce as they made their way up the long driveway to Merrill’s Farm.

Jonathan shrugged. “She’s eased up a bit, give her a break. Look, I see Lucas and Max, why don’t you go hang out with them while I go find Nancy? I told her Mom guilted us into going and she said she’d show after all”

“They don’t want a third wheel. I thought everyone was in on the stay-at-home plan.”

“Hey guys!” Mike Wheeler and El Hopper ran up to Byers family, hand-in-hand.

“Oh, what the heck?” Will whined, causing Joyce to pause in her tracks and look back with a quizzical expression knitting her eyebrows together.

“It’s fine, Mom, go man your post,” Jonathan explained.

“Are you--”

“Yep!”

“Take it easy, guys, I see Nance. Later!” Jonathan waved at the trio and headed over to the apple cider booth, where his girlfriend waited. Lucas and Max hurried over to Will, El and Mike.

“Why?” Will sighed, waving a hand at the two couples.

“You’re being stupid, and they’re not my parents. Why do we want grown-ups to make out, again?” Lucas asked. “I never agreed to the plan.”

“Ditto what he said, and I like hayrides,” Max added.

“Hopper said if I leave him with the Pita Shrews he’ll ground me forever.”

“PTA, I keep telling you.”

“Sorry, Mike. Petey A.”

“Wait, why is your mom glaring at Hopper?” Mike asked.

“Hi guys!”

“Dustin, you too?” Will groaned as the last member of their party walked up, a grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’m meeting a date.”

“He’s flirting,” El observed darkly, her eyes narrowing at her father as he stood at a distance and handed a cider to a petite woman who was definitely not Joyce.

______

“I don’t want to get roped into your weird thing with Joyce,” Dora Vance commented as she daintily sipped at her cup of cider.

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at her while we’re talking, and she looks ready to murder us. I am actually seeing someone from out of town, not that it matters, but I’m not in the mood, Chief, is what I’m saying. You both need to grow up.”

Jim shrugged, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and just a shade of satisfaction that he was getting a reaction out of Joyce. Their conversation earlier had ignited a long-forgotten feeling deep within him: hope. Dora was right, he was being a bit childish, purposely flirting with her to see if his suspicions were correct… but damn, it felt good to be right.

“Sorry, Dora.”

“It was nice of her to not-so-subtly try to set us up, and I went along with it because she’s my friend, but you’re really not my type.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim’s satisfaction began to wane.

“We used to call you Frankenteen back in high school.”

“Okay, well, good talk, Dora.” Jim’s hands were on his hips and he found himself looking over his shoulder at Joyce. He softened his irritated expression at her wide, perplexed eyes. He brushed past Dora and strode up to Joyce, a man on a mission.

“Kids around?” He asked, stopping himself from pulling her into his arms and planting a long, hard kiss on her beautiful, pouting lips.

“No, they’re off getting the flu at the bobbing for apples stand.”

Joyce gave a soft gasp when Jim’s hand closed around hers, tugging her gently. “I need to talk to you alone. Hayrides don’t start for a bit.” She followed him over to the side of Merrill’s big red barn, where the repaired wagon waited, attached to a driverless, green John Deere. Jim led her around to the back of the wagon, and helped her climb up and sit on the edge, before he joined her, his big hands nervously running up and down his knees as he exhaled. Joyce’s eyes were drawn to the little puffs of condensation, and Jim’s lips, to be perfectly honest.

“I don’t want to be with Dora Vance. I don’t want to be with any PTA mom you think would be good for me. None of them are. The only person that’s good for me is--”

“You want to focus on being a father, I get it.”

“Stop! And no… I mean, yes, obviously, but I’m not saying I want to be alone to raise the kid. That’s not what I’m saying.” He took a long, hard look at her and felt his irritation ebb. She really looked beautiful. He always thought she looked beautiful, but it occurred she had gone through some effort with her soft dress, and her mascaraed lashes that looked impossibly long without makeup, but now… “Jesus, Joyce, aren’t you tired?”

Joyce scrunched her nose as color rose to her cheeks. “Wh-what? Why would I be tired?” She instinctively leaned into Jim’s touch as his heavy palm cupped her cheek.

“A million reasons,” he said softly, his clear blue eyes focused on her bottom lip. “But I meant of this. Us, as is. Together, but…” he trailed off, his head bending low, the heat of his breath against the tip of her nose as they drew together like magnets on a slow collision

“Not,” she finished. “Yes, I’m tired and I want--” She cut herself off by closing the distance between them and pressing her lips against his. She thought she had misread the situation for a moment, when his lips did not soften against hers for a long moment, but thought better of it when he moaned and she felt his hand move to the back of her head, his long fingers threading through her hair as he deepened their kiss, urging her lips apart so his tongue could delve into her mouth. She felt herself getting pulled into his lap, and she whimpered against his mouth as her body pressed against his, the steady warmth a blanket against the growing cold. She bucked her hips against his when his other hand slid downwards to grasp at one thigh - it was shockingly cold against the thin material of her tights, though his gentle, caressing motions quickly replaced the ice with fire.

“You kids get the hell offa my wagon!” A cantankerous voice bellowed, causing Jim and Joyce to pull apart with a start. Old man Merrill glared at the two of them, shining a flashlight in their faces, before recognition washed over his enraged features.

“Chief, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were having a moment, I’ll go--”

“No, it’s okay,” Jim grumbled as Joyce slid from his lap and onto the ground, her eyes downcast and obscured by a curtain of hair. He leapt to the ground and threw an arm over her shoulder, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, this time in a low voice only Joyce could hear.

“For once,” she replied, looking up with a sweet, adoring expression that knocked Jim sideways. He grinned back and held her close as they walked back towards the festival.


End file.
